Fading Signs of Time
Do you still take your watch or clock to be repaired?
I guess not many people would answer yes today, even though there used to be numerous watchmaker’s workshops across the city, and it was once a respected craft passed down through generations.
One of its last representatives is the tiny shop at 6 Bethlen Gábor Street. The owner told me that he had no say in the installation of the neon sign: one day, sometime in the 1970s, they simply came and put it up. True, he hasn’t switched it on for quite a while, but at least it’s still there – he never bothered to have it removed.
Photos: The still-operating watchmaker’s shop at 6 Bethlen Gábor Street today, and one of the neon signs of the Watchmakers’ Cooperative at 7 Teréz Boulevard in 1959
The corner shop by Déli railway station, at 7 Magyar Jakobinusok Square, even has two neon signs. Of course, neither of them works, but the repair service is still going strong, and – as is quite typical of this trade – an elderly gentleman welcomes visitors here too. The shop already existed in the 1950s, although in a 1958 photo it did not yet have a neon sign.
Photos: The still-operating watchmaker’s shop at 7 Magyar Jakobinusok Square today, and the same shop in 1958, before it had a neon sign
While browsing through more Fortepan photos, I also came across the beautiful neon sign of the Watchmakers’ Cooperative on Teréz Boulevard. The logo itself is wonderful and can still be found on old pocket calendars from time to time, but in my opinion it worked even better when bent from neon tubing.
Photos: The Watchmakers’ Cooperative logo and the neon sign made from it at 7 Teréz Boulevard in 1988
The Watchmakers’ Cooperative was founded by 15 craftsmen back in 1915, and at first its main activity was simply buying and selling. Later, vocational training was added as well. By the 1970s, gold jewellery repair and production had also become part of its profile, which already suggested that it was becoming increasingly difficult to make a living from selling watches alone.
Photo: 19 Baross Square, 1971
Photo: 4 Teréz Boulevard, 1980
This process may also have forced the workshop at 78 Rákóczi Road to close, where Zoltán Kovács used to work. In an earlier interview, he spoke about his craft like this:
“Why is it art to me? Because I am fascinated by the beauty and lifelike quality of a perfectly functioning mechanism, even though its parts are lifeless. Because every single tick of a clock is music to my ears, whether it comes from a wristwatch, a wall clock, or the clock in a church tower.”
Today, these quietly ticking little shops have become true rarities. If you know of any still-operating watchmaker’s workshops in Budapest besides the ones listed above, let us know!
Photos: Fortepan, neonvadaszat.blogspot.com
